Redone Chapter 1- What Enchantment Hides

Revised chapter 1 of my novel.

         A six year old girl with orange eyes glared at the boy near her, her eyes flashing red as her anger burned. He had pushed her into a wall in the common area and laughed at her. She gritted her teeth and met his eyes. The boy’s head exploded in a thundering headache and he dropped to the ground holding it, tears pricking his eyes. Screaming, he curled up. A priest ran down the hall and into the room, hearing the commotion and coming to discipline whoever was at fault. The girl’s eyes suddenly returned to their bright orange again, lifting to meet the man’s hard stare. The other boy’s pain vanished and he uncurled and looked around confused and afraid. The boy was older than she and was already beginning to dance in the temple rituals. When the priest came and cuffed them both on their ears, she realized that she may have sentenced this other child to death.
         The last two children who saw her do something like this both were sacrificed on the altar in the arena at the next festival, their dances bringing disapproval from the god and the people alike. She sucked in a sharp breath and balled her hands into fists, pushing them against her eyes to keep from crying. Her only goal was to make him leave her alone, but she knew beyond any doubt, she would watch his sacrifice next week. Why did I do that? Why can’t I just stop myself? She thought to herself.
         When the boy was hauled away by the temple priest, she ran as fast as she could, back to her room, slamming the door and sliding down with her back against it. She took big, heaving breaths, her tears beginning to fall. She did this every time. She panicked. I’m a monster, she told herself as she rocked back and forth, her long white tunic beginning to feel damp from her tears.
         Eventually, she wiped her face and nose with her sleeve and looked around at her small bedroom. Her tears still fell slowly, but her breathing had steadied a bit. She had a bed, a set of three drawers, a mirror, a wash basin, and a small window that showed the arena. It was a constant reminder that her life was nothing but a vapor, a puff of smoke that could blow away with the wind at any moment. Just like that boy. If she misstepped too many times, she would find herself tied to the large stone structure in the middle for the entire city to watch as she burned alive. She sniffed again, her eyes feeling heavy. Every time she found herself that angry and hurt someone, she always felt so sleepy afterwards. With heavy footsteps, she dragged herself into her bed, barely pulling the blanket over herself before she fell into a nightmare filled sleep.



         The night was cool and clear as the elven boy lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was bored. He should have been asleep already, but the day seemed to end too early tonight and he was not ready to go to sleep yet. Five year old Kikarii was a master at waiting out his parents and then sneaking out with his friends after everyone was asleep. They had even found a way to bribe the blacksmith nearby to make them fake swords and teach them to fight. Two of the boys dreamed of being soldiers while the others were learning from their fathers to be councilmen. It was the council that ruled the elven city of Barkit, afterall.
         The house was dark and quiet, his mother was asleep. Kikarii heard noises from the tree house closest to theirs. He was five, but highly skilled at concealing himself already. He silently slipped from his bed and out the window. Balancing on the branch outside, he made his way toward the end where another branch intersected it. He carefully, tiptoed across, to the other tree and listened curiously. He would be in big trouble if he was caught, but it was the middle of the night and the couple in this house were always in bed early and the wife was pregnant, so she was rarely wide awake this late at night. His foot slipped and the voices ceased. Kikarii held his breath and crouched, wide-eyed against the massive tree trunk. The man continued talking, but in a whisper this time.
         “...found him by the river… robbed and killed… enchantress has been… execution is set for tomorrow… I’m sorry, Harita.” Though the conversation was whispered so quietly at the end that he only heard bits and pieces, he was able to put together what had happened. Her husband had been seduced by an enchantress and had been found dead by the river. That meant there would be a public execution for the enchantress and shaming for the husband as an example to others. It was ridiculous, really, because men only became involved with an enchantress due to their supernatural power of seduction. Elves were less susceptible than most, but they were not immune and making an example so other men did not follow suit was a useless event and only really served as an act of enforcing power. Hearing the woman weeping in despair bothered the young elf and he sneaked back to his room. Climbing into his bed, he lay awake, staring at his ceiling, unable to sleep.
         Morning came much too quickly for him. A yelling at his window by one of his friends woke him with a start. After figuring out that nothing was urgently wrong, his adrenaline wore off and he rose groggily and rubbed the sleep from his stinging eyes. The sun was much too bright for someone who had only slept two hours. Asking his friend to repeat the story for the third time, the excitement had died down a little due to frustration. Kikarii shrugged as his friend ragged on him for not listening. This time, though, the boy heard it all. The execution was being set up and the enchantress was caged in the clearing. Kikarii threw his boots at his friend and ran to get dressed. Laughing, the other boy scrambled down the tree again. Kikarii threw off his nightshirt and short pants and pulled on his green tunic and brown breeches. He jumped from branch to branch, lower and lower, until he reached the ground. His boots were thrown at his face and he hopped on one foot as he pulled the boot on the other, trying to rush after the elf who was already running toward the clearing.
         The clearing was where the council met publicly to enforce laws and punishments. It was gigantic, more like a large field than a clearing. Cages hung from the enormous trees and prisoners and criminals were put inside and left there for days or sometimes even weeks until their sentences were decided. The enchantress was in one now. The boys burst into the clearing, and slid to a stop on the dirt, staring up at the stunning woman slouched in the cage above them. Her long red hair was dirty and knotted. It looked as if she had been handled roughly before being imprisoned. Her hands were shackled with razor rope, named for the pricks that sliced into one’s skin with every movement. There was a collar with a chain around her neck. The chain was attached to the top of the cage and her shackled feet were tied to the bottom of the cage, also with razor rope. Her beautiful face was scraped, dried blood at her mouth where her lip had been split. The boys marveled at how breathtaking the woman was. As they stood staring up at her, she turned her head and met their eyes. Gasping, they looked down at the leaf-strewn ground. Her deep green eyes were piercing and it seemed as though they could look right through you.
         What seemed like only minutes later, a horn blew and the counsel members stood before the gathering. A moment later, the wife of the dead elf took her place slightly forward of the onlookers. A man spoke loudly, his voice booming across the green expanse. “We are here to dispose of the filth before you. Here hangs the cage that keeps captive an enchantress of great destruction. She seduces men with her unnatural beauty and charm and entices them to do her bidding until she has finished with them. Then she dispatches them to the afterlife as she searches for a new prey to snare. Such was the case with Harita’s husband. Because of his selfishness and desire for what he did not already possess, he has left his wife a widow and his child fatherless before he even enters this world. The man received what he deserved as will this sorceress.” His voice echoed briefly among the trees as the tears silently slid down the widow’s face at the insults hurled at her deceased spouse.
         With a nod at the guards, the cage was lowered to the moss. The sides were dropped and the enchantress was heaved off the ground and tied to a tree only about a meter away. Her collar was unchained from the top of the cage and wrapped around the trunk of the judgment tree. The rope around her ankles was tied to the tree as well. Shears were handed to the head guard and he proceeded to cut her hair. Then taking a razor, he shaved the rest. Her long red locks fell to the forest floor in chunks. As they did, one or two men leaned forward, tempted to go and take the hair. They were held back until the woman dropped her gaze from them. When she was completely bald, her face was cut up and beat until it was a swollen, bloody mess. She was then stripped to a loose, black robe that she had been forced to wear after being captured, and was marched to the center of the clearing. A rope was hanging from a tree there and a ladder was erected next to it. There, she was to hang. Kikarii watched in horror as her neck was sliced to make the hanging more horrific and agonizing for the prisoner and she was pushed off of the ladder unceremoniously. She struggled instinctively, but it only made the slice on her neck open more and the pain become unbearable before she suffocated. Staring in nauseated horror, Kikarii could not make himself look away. His friend shoved him after what he realized was a full minute of his name being called over and over. He would never forget this day, he thought as he walked home, his breathing heavy and his heart pounding in his ears.
         Five years had passed since the execution and Kikarii had been to more. He found all of them to be distasteful, which was a good thing since he was only ten. However, some of the boys reveled in the public executions, hoping to grow up to be a member of the guard so they could participate with the arresting and punishing of criminals. Despite his abhorrence of the executions and his extreme disinterest in being a guard, he would still continue to join his friends in practicing with swords and bows.
         The young elf woke up this morning and pulled on his boots, grabbed his travel bag and rushed down the stairs to his father, who was kissing his mother goodbye. The boy hugged his mother and caught up to Fraynik, The father ruffled his son’s hair and they mounted their horses, heading to Ynhilay for a political trip. This was Kikarii’s first time seeing the forest angels and he could not contain his excitement. Little did he know, he would be the next one standing before the council.



         “Sir,” a cold voice said from the doorway.
         Hannon looked up, annoyed at the interruption. He saw the mercenary messenger standing rigidly at the door. “Yes?”
         “I have received word from one of our contacts in Dorsha that Weknon has indeed kept the girl alive.” The sentence hung in the air as the young man waited for a response.
         The mercenary commander leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head, the corner of his lips turning up into a chilling smirk. “Well, send him a warning to finish his job. I should not have to tell you that. She should have been disposed of years ago.” The big man seemed to zone out for a moment, pondering something before sitting up straight again. “Send a message to Orin as well. Let him know whatever happens now is not our responsibility and we will be collecting the rest of his debt.” The soldier nodded stiffly and vacated the office. “Well, well, Weknon. Even with all of your sacred vows and holy garbage you spout, you still could not resist joining in the treason.” He chuckled darkly and returned to look over the contracts he was writing up for other assignments he was considering. There was a request for an assassination further south, a spousal request in one of the small villages, and another request from Orin. The man could not get off of his power trip long enough to enjoy the power he had been granted. It had been five years and he still wanted more than he was due. Shaking his head, the commander set that one aside. The money was more than worth it, even when he over taxed them on goods and labor costs to maintain the fortress. He looked around and sighed, relaxing into his chair.
         Anohean came to the door. “Hannon.”
         The older man growled in aggravation from being interrupted a second time. “What do you want now?”
         “Notices have been sent and you said you had another assignment for me, sir.” The second in command stood tall and imposing in front of the wooden desk.
         Nodding silently, Hannon handed him an order. The mercenary read it over and smirked. An assassination, sir? That is more in line with a couple of the older men, though.”
         Waving his hand, his superior stood and brushed past him. “Consider this your training. If you fail, find somewhere to dispose of yourself. Preferably at the bottom of a canyon somewhere.” With that, he headed down the hall to the armory, leaving Anohean looking after him.
         The younger man looked at the assassination order and crumpled it in his hand before turning to head to the food hall before he left.



         The little girl watched in horror as the boy she had attacked was strapped to the altar in the arena, he had been drugged, so even though he verbally resisted, his body was too fatigued and heavy to fight back. Tahnni did not need to hear his desperate pleas to know what he begged. The lack of visible resistance was forced in order to convince the crown that even afraid, the children of the temple were willing to give themselves up as sacrifices for Misheth. No one would question the decision, regardless of if they knew better. Every person in Dorsha believed in the sanctity of the temple and its deity.
         The small girl watched as the bull dancer was set ablaze. She covered her ears to block out the screams that echoed off the stones, and the cheering of the crowd as they watched. Tears ran down her cheeks as she made a fist and hit her window, the deep seated regret eating at her very core, threatening to take her sanity. When she finally tore her eyes away, she looked around at her room again. She grabbed her blanket from her bed and curled up on the floor, dozing as images from the arena plagued her.
         With a rough shaking, Tahini opened her eyes groggily. She thought she had only rested a few minutes, but the sun was just peeking in through the window at the beginning of its arc. She looked at the person shaking her, it was a priestess, her stern expression full of annoyance. The child sat up, rubbing her eyes.
         “Get up. You will begin training this morning for the festivals.” The woman threw clothes at her. “Dress quickly.”
The five year old’s heart dropped and her stomach lurched. She glanced back at the window, the dusky sight of the arena sending chills down her spine as she saw the blackened pile of stones at its center. “Yes ma’am,” she said quietly, lowering her head and looking at the blanket covering her feet.



         A cloaked figure moved through the city of Gildad, entering the Titan’s Perch. The older man sat and watched patrons and waitresses. It had been nearly twenty years, and he was almost ready to give up. He focused and saw a waitress lift her head and look at him, coming over to take his order. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. Inclining her head, she gestured to the man at the bar. The stranger nodded and smiled a thank you. She brought back some ale and a small meal and returned to another table.
         A brawl broke out across the room and the man took the distraction as an opportunity to talk to the bartender. Approaching the counter, he laid some gold coins on the counter, an all too familiar emblem on them. The bartender looked at him warily before asking what he needed, their eyes locked onto one another for a moment before the older man spoke. “Where’s Calya?”
         Looking around uneasily, the man behind the bar shot a look at a man in the corner. “He’s the one you want to talk to, sir.”
         Pulling his hood closer around his face, he moved across the room to the dark figure in the corner. He moved a chair out and sat in it. “Where is she?”
         The man whistled and waved his hand for a young girl to come over to them. The cloaked stranger looked her over and studied her eyes. “It’s not her,” he said flatly.
         Seemingly offended, the man raised his voice. “Hwo would you know, old man! She was a baby. This is her! I found her up north and took her home to keep her safe.”
         Discouraged, the newcomer pushed up the girl’s sleeves to uncover bruises and fingerprints up her arms. Anger surged through him. “How dare you show up with an abused slave girl, trying to deceive me for money!” He lifted his staff and hit the man across the face, dropping him from his seat instantly. “I am sorry, child, I cannot help you much.” The man handed the bartender more coins. “Find her a real home or you will wish you never met me.” With a glare, he left the tavern, taking a deep breath of fresh air.
         When he exited the building a messenger handed him a piece of parchment. “Cornelius, a message from Dorsha.”
         The man thanked the other and sent him off. His eyes narrowed when he read the words on the parchment in his hand.

Cornelius,

I found her. She is at the temple. You must arrive before the festival. This is our last chance.

         Without hesitation, he rushed to the stable where he left his horse, saddled up, and rushed out of the city, heading north.